The Lone Wolf
by Skylar D. C
Summary: A brief one-shot, set in Kirkwall 19 years after Hawke and her companions fled the city with the freed apostate mages. Fenris reflects on the regret and angst that has plagued his heart because of his lost love for Hawke.


**This excerpt is taken from my story, 'One Who Lies with Wolves', because I had originally written this as a one-shot. But I decided that it fit in nicely with the plot, so I added it in. Here's the original. Hope you enjoy! **

Large manors and elaborate shops lined the streets of Hightown, looming over the wealthy noblefolk and coy merchants that were milling around the grand square, either perusing the wares, shrewdly gossiping, or strutting about with an air of superiority. Among this crowd was a tall elf with exotic tattoos, who clearly stood out among the extravagantly dressed women and feather-hatted men. The elf strode quickly alongside the patrons, not bothering to glance at the Orlesian goods in the stall beside him, or stop to purchase the tallow in which he was in desperate need of. Instead, he pressed past the charming patrons, almost toppling two hat stands and plowing through a dainty, painted woman in his haste.

Leaving the clamor and bustle behind, the elf turned onto a considerably less crowded side street, and the din of the echoing squabble significantly decreased. The elf slowed his pace and walked placidly along bridges, high archways and tall pillars, which led him to a courtyard that housed multiple doors, of which one he approached with a set of keys.

The elf stopped in the foyer upon entering, sensing something different about his manor. It had a feeling of emptiness drifting about it, a feeling that was once a constant in his life, one that used to follow him around every corner, one that crept into bed with him in the dark hours, plaguing his heart. This connection drew a brief flash upon the elf. The room was the same one he entered, yet so very different as he was rushed back in time. No candles warmly welcomed him, crates and dusty barrels were shoved in corners or overturned with cobwebs draping them in ominous gloom. Debris littered the floor and the air had a chill to it that pierced through your skin, wrapping its icy tendrils around your veins. This was how the premises looked long ago, back in another lifetime, when he had first met _her... _Remembering this other world had brought a cringe to his face, making him clench his fists, yearning for what he once had.

Twilight shrouded the manor after the evening meal, the dusky sky spread like a blanket over the city of Kirkwall and had an almost romantic aura about it. Fenris found himself in the bedroom, restlessly pacing between the fireplace and the bed, the past painfully dancing on the edges of his memory, taunting him. Tempting him to remember every glorious day that was passed with _her, _tempting him to fall prey to the pain and regret that hid behind those memories. A brooding demeanor overtook his figure as it once had long ago, an intense scowl marring his face as he tried to push away the sweet memories, the memories that would no doubt pull him into a pit of despair and regret.

He could finally no longer take it. Fenris pulled back his shoulders and took a deep breath, the exhale rushing sternly between his lips. The elf walked through halls and rooms, each section of the house getting dustier and more cluttered as he neared the center of the mansion. The room in which he was seeking was the most neglected of them all with barrels and crates thrown half-hazardly around the room. Dust covered every surface and cobwebs were so thick they looked like cotton fibers. This room mirrored what the entire estate looked like 19 years ago, a fossil in the future. In the middle of this room was a large crimson chest, one with silver filigree and trim, clearly marking the chest as expensive and valuable. The ornate "F" on the clasp only added to the grandeur of the vessel. Fenris paused for a moment, questioning if his mental fortitude was high enough to withstand the oncoming slaughter. Kneeling in front of the chest, his eyebrows knitted together in anxiety.

The lid was flipped open, and Fenris stared at the possessions of a life he once knew. The elf expected pain, but none of the magnitude that rammed his chest. He drew in a sharp breath as every memory of years before clearly passed through his head. His chest tightened with longing, regret, passion, and love. As he sifted through the items, his chest only grew tighter and tighter. There was his armor, and the armband and Amell crest she had given him after their love had thought to been cemented. A biography of her was in there too, signed both by the cocky dwarf who had written it and the subject. There was also his journal which hardly had anything written in it, save for a few thoughts he had to get off of his chest. He fondly remembered the elf mage that suggested it might help to write down his feelings, which he did. He remembered thinking it was a ridiculous and accomplished nothing. As he remembered his frustration at the exercise, he smiled, finding humor in his struggle. Flipping through the blank pages, a black blur in the back of the book passed over his vision and his smile quickly faded. The page was found again and his face crumpled as he noticed it was a passage written by her, professing her feelings of love, passion, and desire for him. He had never seen this note before, and the agonizing pain tore at his heart. There were other trinkets and odds throughout the chest that had once meant something to him, but the last item made his breath stop. As he looked at the portrait, her face was no longer a blur or a fuzzy image in his mind, it was crystal clear. The portrait was titled "Maria Hawke" and depicted a lovely woman with deep mahogany hair that framed her full face. Her piercing blue eyes bore right through him, even though it was only a picture and made him quickly look away. And her mouth, pulled up into a sly smile. How fondly he remembered those lips. The shape, the soft touch, the taste. Her voice flooded his head then, "Fenris, you have to learn to laugh, or smile sometimes. Not everything is doom and gloom," Her light chuckle followed, making him quiver with dread.

A solitary tear rolling down the elf's face signaled it was time to leave.


End file.
